


Galactica, the remix

by TheArtificialDane



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF, The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 19:44:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11790141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtificialDane/pseuds/TheArtificialDane
Summary: A rewrite of my story Galactica, which you can read here on AO3!





	Galactica, the remix

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Galactica](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9180625) by [TheArtificialDane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtificialDane/pseuds/TheArtificialDane), [veronicasanders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronicasanders/pseuds/veronicasanders). 



“Violet! I need you to go the fabric district and get another 12 yards of that black velvet with the little beads.”

“Max has run out of lightbulbs, find some immediately and bring them here.”

“Yes? Violet, hello. I want eggs for breakfast, no yoke, half an avocado, grape juice. That’s all.”

“Could you please pick up the dry cleaning from last weeks shoot, and bring it to the studio for reshoots before you go to lunch.”

“Where is Raja? Why isn’t Raja here? Violet, fix this immediately!”

“Call Patrick and confirm the time of my flight, then call the hotel, the driver and the restaurant as well. I don’t want anything to go wrong on our vacation.”

Violet pushed the door open to the Galactica office, her arms heavy with the dry cleaning she had picked up from the fifth floor, her feet aching. Violet dumped down at her desk and booted up her computer, a total of 52 new emails greeting her, which she quickly skimmed though as she kicked off her shoes. She didn’t know exactly how this had become her life, but as a newly graduated student from Parsons School of Design, she was beyond thankful for her job as a personal assistant, even if it meant bending over backwards to satisfy the needs of Miss “The Brand” Fame, the owner and cofounder of New York’s hottest fashion brand, Galactica.

“Violet!”

Violet froze as Fame called her from inside her office, quickly checking her email and calendar to see if she had missed something, but no.

Why was Fame calling her now?

“Violet!”

“I’m coming Miss!”

Violet quickly put on her shoes, checking her makeup in her computer screen before she grabbed her notebook; needing to remember everything that would be said to her, making her way into Fame’s office.

If there was one thing to say about her job, it was that no day at Galactica was ever the same.

***

“Pearl, I got you the glosses you wanted from the makeup department. Can I come in?”

“Sure!”

“Thanks, I-?” Violet looked up as she walked into her best friends office, or, if Violet was honest, her only friend’s office, even though she in her heart of hearts wished for something more.

“Hi Vi!”

Pearl was gorgeous, long blonde hair falling over her delicate shoulders, her eyes always making Violet’s knees feel weak, but Violet’s favorite thing was Pearl’s smile, the little grin on the others lip always making Violet feel like Pearl knew something more, like she was better than Violet, and Violet wanted nothing more than to catch up to Pearl, to be her equal, and someone Pearl would respect.

“Don’t call me that.” Violet put down the box of makeup Pearl had instructed her to collect, Laganja, Pearl’s second in command and assistant, off doing whatever the weird thing she could think of, no doubt with the head of the marketing department Alyssa Edwards, the two thick as thieves and equally insane and southern.

“What are you watching?”

Pearl was sitting at her desk, her feet up her laptop on her legs, and as Violet walked closer she could smell the sweet scent of coconut from Pearl’s hair.

“It’s Givenchy’s ready-to-wear fall catwalk from last season’s New York Fashion Week, I’m doing a piece for our website about the transformation of European fashion to America. Do you know Givenchy?”

“Of course, I’m not an idiot.”

Violet and Pearl had met at a club a few years ago, Violet sneaking in as she had not yet turned 20, her classmates insisting that they simply had to go out since they had all passed their exams. Violet had seen Pearl from across the room, the blonde dancing as if it was the last night of her life, her bright smile, her energy, the pure abandonment with which she moved drawing Violet in, pulling her to Pearl with a gravity she had never felt before. There was a reason Pearl was the uncrowned queen of New York’s nightlife, a night with Liaison never boring, but Violet hadn’t known it at the time, which was the only reason she had had the courage to approach Pearl, the decision changing her life forever.

“I tried to give the article to one of the interns, I figured it was a win win, they feel like they’re getting the chance of a lifetime, and I won’t have to watch a boring show.”

Violet smiled, the fact that Pearl was in her office and not out amongst the people of her department telling Violet that Pearl was most likely hungover, the woman somehow punk enough to pulling it off. “Thank god for interns, huh?” Violet knew she herself was little else but a glorified intern, but she was still thankful for the threads Pearl had pulled when Fame’s last assistant had quit in a fit of tears.

“Mmh, sometimes Fortuna does smiles upon you.”

At Pearl’s reference to the Roman goddess of luck, Violet barked out a laugh. “Oh my God, you pretentious whore.”

Violet knew she should get back to her desk, but for once she had Pearl’s entire attention on her.

“It’s not pretentious if I know what I’m talking about bitch!” Pearl laughed as well, grabbing her computer to make sure it wouldn’t fall. “There’s a difference between being intelligent and pretentious. Pretentious would be me taking out my septum piercing since everyone seems to have one.” Pearl pointed on the screen, and Violet could just barely see the audience as slender model after slender model walked down the runway.

“See, there, on the new manager for the buyer’s department of Asos, and there we have one again, it’s on the assistant but still, I win- Hey, look, there’s Bianca.” Pearl paused the video, and Violet recognised her immediately. Bianca Del Rio, editor in chief of Marie Claire magazine and one of Fame’s close friends. “Look at that face, geeze.. Anyone who calls Fame an Ice Queen has never met Bianca Del Rio, that’s for sure.”

“Or Raja.”

“Or Raja.” Pearl smiled, “Hey do you-”

Violet’s phone rang, and she cursed at herself as she stood up, answering Fame’s call on the second ring.

***

“I agree, but don’t you think-”

“Too much like two years ago? I do.”

Sitting in a car with both Raja and Fame was always an experience. Manhattan moved by at a snail pace, the afternoon trafic always bad, but Fame had insisted that both her and Raja needed to be present for the location shoot of the newest batch of clothes from independent designers for Galactica’s website. Both Raja and Fame were talking, the two going over the design concents they had been sent by Max and Trixie, Fame’s favorite photographer and the head of the design department. Watching Fame and Raja work was magical, even though Violet could just as well have been invisible, the two barely acknowledging her existence, and Violet did what she did best, which was not draw attention to herself.

“I’m not sure I love the water concept.”

“What are you talking about Raja, it’s brilliant.”

“If you say so.”

Raja Gemini was Fame’s second in command in almost everything, the one besides Violet who spent the most time in Fame’s presence and one of the only employees Fame confided in. As a former model, Raja had an eye for fashion like few others, and as the creatie director for Galactica, Raja had her hand in almost every single project Galactica did, even though it was always Fame who had the last word. Fame and her husband Patrick, the owner of the buildings that housed Galactica, and the Fashion House financial backer from the very start.

“No, Fame, I’m telling you, no.”

“Fine.”

Ice Queens. Violet remembered Pearl’s words, but she wasn’t sure if she agreed. Violet liked Raja well enough, not that she really needed to like her bosses. Raja was competent, fair, often demanding, but also someone who always got her business done. Even after more than a year at the company, Violet knew very little about Raja, except for the fact that she was Indonesian, that she was a former model, had a twin brother, and that she and Raven Petruschin had been dating for close to years. Raven was one of their most used models, both for runway and photoshoots, and even though she was dating Raja, her results never suffered, but no one in the fashion world expected anything less from a girl that was signed with Elite Model Management.

“Violet.. Violet, how many times do I have to scream your name.” Violet looked up, not even realising that she had been stuck in her own head. Miss Fame was looking directly at her, a cold look on her face as if she had truly been screaming, but Violet knew better. Fame held her hand out, an air of indifference about her. “I need a pen.”

“Yes Miss.” Violet reached into her Prada bag, quickly rifling through, knowing she had seconds to get Fame what she had requested. Violet handed Fame the pen, too flushed  to look directly at her. “Sorry Miss.”

“That’s all.”

Violet looked down, not catching the slight smile on Miss Fame’s lips before she went back to work.


End file.
